


Figure This Out

by whiplashcrash



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Fulcrum Era Kalluzeb romance, Kallus has trouble letting himself hold onto the good things in life, M/M, a 5 + 1 for Kalluzeb, because it's good stuff, itty bit of unintentional violence, mostly canonverse, smooth lasats for fulcrum_reader, some mild drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplashcrash/pseuds/whiplashcrash
Summary: Five times Zeb the Rebel kissed Kallus the Imperial and one time Fulcrum kissed his Spectre.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 19
Kudos: 137





	Figure This Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fulcrum_reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrum_reader/gifts).



> I hope this makes you feel better. No furred lasats in this fic :) You deserve good things, and I hope this is only one of them.

\-- 1 --

Under the shudder of moonlight rippling through the clouds above Capital City, Kallus laid in his quarters, in silence and solitude, staring at the same ceiling as he had every night since returning to Lothal. Konstantine’s Star Destroyer was on deployment somewhere in the Outer Rim, but Kallus remained behind, not needed for dealing with petty pirates when his focus was on the Rebel cell.

Of course, his focus was unparalleled. Those rebels, or perhaps one in particular, claimed most every waking thought of Kallus’s.

The only issue was with his inability to quiet his mind. It seemed unfair that despite devoting all his waking hours to the pursuit and capture of the Rebels, Kallus would watch them make off with all the hours he was supposed to be sleeping.

He dared to turn his head and look at the forbidden chrono on the wall and groaned. Pale hands flew up to cover his face and Kallus wished he’d never looked. Of course, you don’t look at the time if you can’t sleep, he berated himself.

Over a week of exhaustion and tossing and turning, which, while not proper Imperial behavior, was what Kallus resorted himself to, struggling to rest to serve his Empire.

To serve his Empire.

With the knowledge he would never sleep if he didn’t force himself to, Kallus swung his feet out from underneath the thin sheets and felt them slide across the durasteel floor with a sigh.

This was how Kallus found himself dressed in civilian attire, his second drink swirling at the bottom of the glass in his hand in the Lothalian bar.

“You’ve got a real looker watching you, you know,” The Ithorian said, chortling as he gestured across the bar. Kallus didn’t pay attention. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything besides drink away any memory of the Rebels who haunted his every waking, and now resting, moment.

Kallus almost raised his hand for a third glass, nearly ready to sleep off the bitter drink, whatever it was, when he saw the shimmer of green from something other than what was left in his glass.

More specifically, the eyes of a Lasat.

Kallus inhaled sharply and dared to look between said Lasat and his second empty glass, realizing that while not wholly inebriated, he was not in any condition to fight against Garazeb- _No, Zeb_ , his mind corrected him, but for whatever reason, Kallus couldn’t know.

The point being, Kallus was overworked, overtired and had been drinking, so even if he was armed besides the non-standard-issue blaster under his loose-fitting poncho of choice, he likely wouldn’t stand a chance if Zeb decided to engage.

From the looks of Zeb, however, his gaze was trained solely on Kallus, and it would not be changing anytime soon if the Ithorian bartender was to be believed.

Kallus tossed a few credits onto the bar and slid onto the floor from his barstool, downing the last of his drink. He ducked into the crowd, hoping to lose Zeb before he could get so much as a word in, and saw a backdoor Kallus was all too grateful for.

Stepping into the alleyway behind the bar, Kallus pulled his poncho tightly around himself and put his head down, ready to flee when the door opened again behind him.

“Kallus!” Zeb called. Not loud enough to draw attention, but with enough volume Kallus knew he could not ignore Zeb.

He halted and scrunched up his face. Muttering a frustrated curse under his breath, Kallus turned to face Zeb, hands tucked under his arms, and hoping he would not come to regret not taking his chance to run while he still had it.

“You’re alive,” Zeb breathed. To Kallus, Zeb’s relief was a shock to his system. Dare he even consider the possibility? Kallus’s heart ached at the possibility of it all being some figment of his imagination.

Kallus froze next to the dumpster and turned to look at Zeb, tall and striped, skin shining under the same moonlight that kept Kallus awake night after night and led him to the bar.

Kallus’s eyes drank in the sight of the soft expression of the Lasat, his ears falling on either side of his head, and nodded slowly. “Yes, I am. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Zeb held up one finger and opened his mouth before declaring: “I’ve been drinking.”

Kallus frowned, searching for the signs of inebriation that would confirm as much. They were different in Lasats, Kallus knew they had to be, but the subtle sway and the evermore expressiveness of those ears? It seemed true enough. “I can see that.”

“Karabast, Kallus, you’re alive.”

 _Oh, definitely drinking._ “You’ve already said that,” Kallus reminded him.

Zeb shrugged. “Yeah. I know. I just- You’re here, and you’re okay,” Zeb said. “You are okay, right?”

Kallus nodded once. “Yes. I made it off Bahryn.”

It was Zeb’s turn to look confused. “Bahryn? You mean it’s got a name?”

“Yes,” Kallus said, thrilled Zeb knew what he was talking about. “The ice moon we were stranded on is named Bahryn.”

“I can’t believe it. That Empire did come back for you after all.”

Kallus flinched without meaning to, but even when he’d been drinking, Zeb could see that shame written all across his face.

His face and ears fell once more. “They didn’t come looking for you,” Zeb said, more of a statement than a question. “I really did leave you there to freeze.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I did know. I knew it then, and I know it now. They were never going to rescue you,” Zeb said, big green eyes still fixed on his own. “I left you on Bahryn to-” Zeb shuddered,

“Garazeb- Zeb,” he corrected himself out loud this time. “I never would have accepted it. You’d have needed to force me onto your ship. I wouldn’t have left with you voluntarily.”

Zeb scoffed. “Yeah, well, you being alive and forced onto the Ghost isn’t half as bad as being abandoned to kriffing freeze till you fall to pieces, Kallus.” Zeb snarled.

“I never gave you a choice.”

“I chose the easy way out. I chose to give up on you.”

Kallus gaped at Zeb. He was clearly upset, but to so easily come up with arguments against Kallus’s attempts to assuage the guilt of the Lasat, Zeb had to have already suffered through them on his own.

An abrupt and frightening realization coming to his mind, Kallus’s body went rigid. “Zeb,” he began slowly. “You don’t mean to tell me you cared?”

Kallus watched Zeb flinch, shifting his weight and dare Kallus say Zeb was blushing. “Course I cared,” Zeb muttered. “You’n me? We’re like- I dunno, something.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand,” Kallus admitted, wishing more than anything he knew what it was Zeb was trying to tell him; he dared to hope.

Zeb scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “S’okay. I don’t either. You’re just my Bahryn buddy, you know?”

Kallus’s expression fell. “Oh.”

“I mean you saved my life. You know more about me than some o’ the crew, and I feel like I know you better than any o’ those Imps in that Complex.”

“Perhaps you do. What then?”

“We figure it out.” Zeb said, and without preamble, reached one hand up snatch at Kallus’s loose strands of hair with his much larger fingers.

Without so much as a flinch, Kallus leaned into the touch, one he’d desperately craved ever since Zeb walked away from him on Bahryn. Although not even Kallus could’ve expected the sheer need he would experience when far from Zeb, it encompassed more than his thoughts. His heart fluttered at the fingers sneaking into his poorly managed hair, red and cold twisted around purple, and Kallus found his whole body was flushed with warmth.

Looking up at Zeb with hopeful brown eyes, Kallus searched for the notion of more than Zeb was outright saying the closer he moved to where Zeb was standing. “What are we figuring out, exactly?”

Zeb chuckled, his breath mingling with Kallus’s own as close as Zeb had leaned towards Kallus. “This,” he said.

In an impossible moment that had Kallus’s heart nearly bursting from his chest, Zeb angled both their heads and kissed him.

 _Yes_ , Kallus would later agree. _We have to figure this out._

\-- 2 --

As it turned out, figuring things out took a back seat to figuring out themselves. When the Spectres vanished from Lothal and Zeb did not come to say goodbye, Kallus found himself deflating at the prospect of returning with nothing but an aching heart and desperate wishes to see and kiss Garazeb Orrelios again.

It took weeks for Kallus to stop checking his comm-logs for any mention of the _Ghost_ , and longer still for him to stop daydreaming about how he might stumble across Zeb next, if he ever did- and that was assuming they weren’t on opposite ends of their bo-rifles.

Perhaps it was unfair, but when his frustrations culminated in an unyielding well pouring out anger and defeat into his heart, Kallus would spar. Not with droids, as some Imperials preferred, but with stormtroopers.

One such stormtrooper’s legs were cut out from underneath him, sending the Imperial foot soldier spinning into the ground. He landed with a grunt of pain and did not rise to face Kallus again.

In fact, all of the stormtroopers who’d volunteered to train with him were laying on the training mats and mostly unmoving, leaving Kallus to stand alone. The bo-rifle was in its staff configuration, but he’d had to fend off attacks from a number of opponents at once, leaving Kallus with his chest heaving and hair in disarray around his eyes.

None of them dared to question when Kallus disappeared from the room, with a curt call of: “dismissed,” retreating to the refresher to rinse off some of that sweat and heat before resuming his duties.

Duties that grew increasingly neglected as the days went by. It seemed the Spectres had all fallen off the face of the galaxy, much less the planet.

And Kallus, despite everything, missed them, or more accurately, missed Zeb.

Which is why being run over by a droid, a Rebel droid at that, was not nearly as much of an insult as it was painful. The C1-10 unit rolled over Kallus’s foot when he was so engrossed in thought it never occurred to him to watch where he was going, and he shouted, ready to tear the poor droid a new one when he realized he recognized the painted droid.

His eyes narrowed and Kallus looked down at the crotchety astromech painted to resemble an Imperial droid. Chopper stared him down just as angrily. “Why are you here?” he finally asked.

Chopper grumbled something about Lasats and Kallus felt his blood run cold.

“What about them?” Kallus hissed, but Chopper ignored him and continued wheeling down the hallway and around the corner.

He looked around the junction for any sight of anyone other than the droid, but there was not a single soul, organic or otherwise, to be seen. Kallus took a deep breath and followed the droid, forgetting the fresher and the bo-rifle in his hand.

When Chopper led Kallus outside of the Complex, however, Kallus’s instincts kicked in. What if this is a trap? What if this has nothing to do with Zeb at all, what if the Empire is testing my loyalties?

If they were, Kallus was certain he would fail miserably.

Heart racing again, and adrenaline already hiking back up higher than it’d been while training, Kallus tightened his grip on his bo-rifle, gloves creaking around the metal as soon as Chopper disappeared around a corner near the perimeter of the base.

Kallus appeared around the same corner, ready to strike anything that so much as dared to sneak up on him.

What Kallus did not expect was Zeb, hands above his head, with wide green eyes and a nervousness Kallus did not recall being there the last time they met.

“It’s just me, Kallus,” Zeb said, hands still up and recoiling at the sight of Kallus with his bo-rifle pointed outwards.

“Just you?” Kallus repeated, though he didn’t move.

Zeb eyed the staff’s end and looked back at Kallus, uneasiness rippling through his body. “Yeah, s’what I said, isn’t it?”

“Garazeb Orrelios!” Kallus hissed, slinging the bo-rifle over his shoulder and ensuring they were out of sight. “You ought to know better than to send your droid of all thing parading around an Imperial facility to run over its agents!”

“Chopper,” Zeb growled, turning to glower furiously at the chortling droid. “I told you to get him and bring him here, not try and kill him.”

“Your communication skills require improvement, Zeb. I was worried.”

“You? Worried?”

“You disappeared! Not one word, for months, and then your send in your droid to trample me in a public hallway, where anyone could see, not to mention his cryptic message about Lasats and Imperials,” Kallus groaned and rubbed his eyes with his gloved hands.

Zeb’s expression fell, and Kallus watched those ears, just like before, tumble and fold over to the sides. The sight pulled at his heartstrings, and he couldn’t help it, Kallus was guilt tripped.

Without the consideration of how bizarre it was the simplest movement of another species’ ears could affect him, an ISB agent, so drastically, Kallus pulled his gloves from his hands and reached up tentatively to mimic Zeb’s gesture from the last time they’d met. “Zeb. I was worried you had been captured. The Empire, as much as I hate to admit it, would not show you the kindness nor the decency you deserve.”

His light freckled cheeks were nothing compared to the paler-than-a-ghost skin hidden beneath those crisp black gloves. Kallus’s fingers snuck into the side of Zeb’s beard and ruffled the hair affectionately, scratching the underside of Zeb’s jaw. Hand turned so that his palm faced outwards, Kallus brushed the back of his knuckles across Zeb’s striped skin and sighed.

“So, yes, I worried.”

Zeb nodded, but didn’t shake off the hand or the fingers touching his face. “M’ sorry, Kallus.”

If he were a Lasat, Kallus was sure his ears would’ve mimicked Zeb’s. “You don’t have to be sorry. Merely be cautious; if not for my sake then for you own, Zeb. Please.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before,” Zeb said with a cheeky grin.

Kallus rolled his eyes and continued the gentle motion of his hand across Zeb’s face to reach the back of his neck while the other pale hand took its place on Zeb’s opposite cheek. “Then perhaps unlike every other time, you might listen to me when I ask something of you.”

Zeb shrugged. “Maybe,” he said teasingly, a soft laugh making its way into Kallus’ already parted lips. It was the last thing either of them said for some time, though not nearly long enough for neither Spectre nor Agent.

\-- 3 --

After a particularly heated conversation with Admiral Konstantine, Kallus found himself promptly deposited on a shuttle to the surface and all but kicked off the Admiral’s Star Destroyer for the duration of the crew’s shore leave.

Whatever the name of the planet was, (Kallus hadn’t checked because he hadn’t intended to be on said shuttle for said shore leave) Kallus knew he would be stuck there for at least three days.

The first two days were uneventful enough, Kallus worked from his temporary quarters and continued sifting through the same data when something caught his eye. He seized the datapad and the same loose cloak and rushed outside of his quarters at a brisk walking pace, down the lift and out into the city.

His pace only accelerated the further he got from the center of Imperial activity, and it was enough of a run Kallus knew he couldn’t possibly look like anything but a madman or a criminal, but he didn’t care. Fleeing the Imperials and disappearing out into the open city after weeks without seeing Zeb was enough to make his heart ache and his spirit screech to be set free again.

As if on cue, when Kallus slowed his pace and stopped to catch his breath, knowing anyone appearing in a thin veil of sweat and gasping for air. Although the Empire’s and his own standards ensured Kallus was always in the epitome of good shape, he wanted nothing more than to appear as if he’d only casually decided to come near that part of the spaceport. He took two steps forwards and was snatched from an alleyway by two enormous, clawed, but very familiar hands.

Kallus’s instinct was to fight, and he did at first, but when he saw Zeb’s eyes, the massive hand on his face to cover his mouth and the muffled shout Kallus made when he’d been rudely grabbed from the main street didn’t seem so important anymore.

“Hey, there, Kallus.” Zeb said with a grin. The hand shifted to hold Kallus close to him, letting the Imperial breathe in the scent of musky Lasat and a twinge of

Although he was trying and mostly succeeding sounding in casual, Kallus knew Zeb’s eagerness was in his eyes, not his voice.

“Good morning, Zeb,” Kallus replied into the cloth of Zeb’s jumpsuit, holding it between his own gloved hands. The wrinkles in the fabric where he clutched it were enough for Kallus to fiddle with and smile to himself, though Zeb couldn’t see.

Kallus could feel the deep rumbling of Zeb’s voice in his chest. He closed his eyes while pressed into that yellow cloth to focus on the sensation of vibrations running through his own skin while Zeb spoke. “Karabast, it’s good to see you.”

Kallus felt the Lasat’s arms wrap around him a little tighter. “I could say the same about you,” he said. Though his words were likely muffled, there was no doubt Zeb heard him.

Angling his head to see Zeb smiling, actually smiling, at him, Kallus felt himself blush. Zeb’s head dipped down again and he lifted Kallus up with one hand wrapped beneath a thigh. Kallus did his best to hop up and wrap the other leg over Zeb’s leg and pressed himself into the kiss.

For a while they were lost in the sensation, letting themselves reexplore and rediscover one another for the first time in weeks. Kallus saw no reason to stop, but Zeb paused in between kisses to mutter something against Kallus’s mouth.

“What’re you doing here, anyways?” Zeb asked, as if realizing for the first time Kallus’s presence was out of the norm. “This isn’t exactly Lothal.”

Kallus’s nose dusted pink to match his cheeks. “Involuntary shore leave. I may have upset the Admiral and been ah- removed from his Star Destroyer.”

Zeb snorted, but stroked the well-groomed beard and loose-flowing hair Kallus hadn’t tended to while on leave. “You’re a mouthy one, that’s for sure. Still, I don’t remember anyone ever making you do much of anything, you know.”

“Things are different now, Zeb.” Kallus said, and mumbled his next few words. “I’m different now.”

Zeb’s curious look, sprinkled with a few dabs of fragile hope, appeared quicker than Kallus thought possible. He opened his mouth to ask a question, one Kallus so desperately wanted to hear and-

The moment fizzled into one of tension as soon as Zeb tensed and backed away, holding Kallus at arm’s length. “Wait,” Zeb said uneasily.

“What is it?” Kallus asked.

“How did you know where to find me?”

Kallus flinched, realizing as disappointed he was that their conversation would go no further, Zeb’s question was an important one, one he should’ve thought to address as soon as he arrived. Being distracted by a particular Lasat’s arms wrapped around him was no excuse for Kallus not warning Zeb. “There was a report of a ship matching the Ghost’s description in the vicinity of the Imperial center nearby.”

“Karabast,” Zeb swore. “You didn’t think to lead with that?”

“I was going to,”

“Were you?” Zeb asked.

Kallus recoiled. Even if he didn’t try to make himself smaller, Kallus retreated from Zeb, the thousand layers of accusation coiling and releasing a thousand blades into his tattered confidence.

“Of course,” Kallus said, his voice rising in pitch without him meaning to.

“Aw, Kallus, I didn’t mean it like that,” Zeb winced. “I know you’re not like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Garazeb?” Kallus’s tone was cold and biting, so far from the man who naught a minute beforehand was smiling like a smitten schoolboy in the Lasat’s arms.

“I just meant if you forgot, or-”

“Or I set you up?”

“Kallus, no,” Zeb said, reaching for Kallus’s face and actually thumbing over the skin underneath Kallus’s cheek before he withdrew even further from Zeb.

“Just- go tell them.”

“Kal-”

“Tell them, and leave, Zeb.” Kallus scowled. He crossed his arms and backed away from Zeb as if to prove Zeb was free to leave.

“Fine,” Zeb said. He made his way down the alleyway, and Kallus leaned against the wall, head turned to watch him go.

Zeb turned back only once, hesitating on whatever it was he wanted to say, but before Zeb could take his chance, Kallus shook his head and went the opposite way, disappearing into the crowds and refusing to check to see if Zeb was still standing where Kallus left him.

\-- 4 --

In the Imperial facility he’d stopped to visit, Kallus woke with a start, and began barking orders the moment he emerged from his quarters. As the klaxon sounds and reports of Rebels moving through the facility came through the comms, Kallus was in his element, directing troops as needed and making his way to the front lines.

The squads of Imperial stormtroopers spread out throughout the facility, and Kallus continued onwards without so much as the hint of white armor clattering behind him with every step down the hallway. Of course, Kallus may have directed them to move in such a fashion avoiding those Stormtroopers so focused on efficiency would be as easy as breathing if not for the insane pounding in his chest.

With every step just shy of a run, Kallus slipped through blast doors and the identical Imperial durasteel halls to make his way to where he knew the Rebels would be.

As soon as he rounded the corner however, a fist collided with his stomach, the knuckles under his ribcage leaving Kallus to stumble backwards and hit the floor with a terrible crack of bone and a grunt of pain.

“Kallus?” Came the horrified voice of none other than Zeb, whose head appeared in Kallus’s field of vision from where he was standing by Kallus’s head. “Karabast, Kallus, what’re you thinking, running around like that?”

“I was thinking I was going to see you,” Kallus mumbled, reaching up a hand for Zeb to take.

At the declaration, Zeb’s traces of anger disappeared as visibly as the wrinkles around his eyes, and he softened. Kallus wondered how deeply his last words to Zeb cut, but a darker corner of his mind reminded him how much the jagged marks of Zeb’s accusing words, sharper than his claws, tore into Kallus’s self-image.

Zeb clasped his forearm and lifted Kallus to stand again. It was like no other feeling, to be moved without so much as a grunt from Zeb as gravity’s pull was warded off by the hand of his- of whatever Zeb was to him, something they had yet to figure out.

Kallus did not look away from Zeb’s eyes, where they stood, Kallus’s black gloves keeping his skin from Zeb’s. It felt like there might as well be a legion of stormtroopers between them for all Kallus felt further from Zeb. Biting his lip and blinking slowly

“Kal, I-”

“Zeb, you know-”

Zeb chuckled, twisting his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “S’okay, you go first.”

“Zeb,” Kallus sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Right.” Kallus nodded, biting his lip. Of course, he furiously debated how best to start now that he knew Zeb was listening, that he wanted to listen, but- Kallus sighed again. “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t betray your trust the way you feared I would. I don’t know why, but I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to do that. Not to you.”

“I know that. I never should’ve said that to you. I just didn’ know where we stand, still don’t know to be honest, Kal,”

“Kal?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright.”

 _It’s perfect._ “It is perfectly fine, Zeb.”

Warm air tickled Kallus’s ear with a breathy laugh starting from the deepest rumbles in Zeb’s chest. “Kal, it is then,”

“I am sorry about the way I reacted the last time,” Kallus said.

Zeb nodded. “I figured. I just- I’m glad to see you, ya know?”

Though Kallus had never even suspected in all his years he would look up into those soft green eyes of the Lasat standing before him, or weave his fingers in the thick hair his beard with one hand, the other sliding over Zeb’s shoulder, he was more than ready to do so. His fingertips brushed over the the warm stripes and skin. Never had Kallus so eagerly torn off his gloves and just been able to touch another living being.

He exhaled, and smiled up at Zeb, kicking the painful memories into a corner for later, for when he wasn’t being hoisted up by Zeb’s arms wrapped around his waist, or when they were racing the clock before the other Spectres or Imperials saw the two of them, lost in their own little world.

Every brush of lips and muffled gasp from Kallus was matched with a hum of approval or even a deep rolling growl Kallus could feel where his legs snuck around Zeb’s waist, and up through his spine.

“I missed you,” Kallus said breathlessly. A few whimpers slipped past Kallus’s lips, not caring he was an Imperial, or that Zeb was a Rebel, that they’d traded more blows than they had kisses, or even that his muffled sounds were still not soft enough that the little corner they were tucked away in would afford them much privacy if Kallus couldn’t keep his voice down.

Zeb nodded and continued to kiss him, a claw daring to slip behind Kallus’s ear and pull a strand of hair free, about as daring and rebellious amongst the rest of his slicked back hairs as Kallus was amongst the Imperials. And to Zeb, every bit as much of a standout as Kallus.

“I don’t know how,” Zeb said, stroking Kallus’s face with the backs of his fingers. “But whatever this is, we’re going to figure it out. We’re going to make this work.”

“How?” Kallus asked. Whether he dreaded the idea or its failure, Kallus couldn’t be sure, nor would he likely ever be.

Zeb laughed. “I still don’t know. But I don’t give up so easily, and I know you don’t either. You’re not like the other Imps.”

“Oh, really?” Kallus asked, the glimmer of mischief so unlike the rigid crisp ISB agent he’d walked around as for years. “Well, I suppose in that case, I might as well res-”

Zeb lifted a finger to silence Kallus and shook his head, ears swiveling to listen to a sound Kallus could not hear. “Karabast.”

Kallus’s heart sank at the swear. “What is it?”

“I gotta go.”

With a deep exaggerated sigh, Kallus’s eyes pleaded with Zeb, or maybe with the galaxy to let them have a little more time, but when he heard Bridger calling for his teammate, he sighed, slipping to the floor again, eyes glued to the floor. “Be careful.”

Fingers lifting Kallus’s chin, Zeb leaned in and pressed his mouth to the top of Kallus’s head, just where his hairline rested along his forehead. “You, too.”

Zeb disappeared down the one hallway, and Kallus down another, as if they’d not been pressed together up against the durasteel walls of Imperial conformity, defying everything the Empire ever thought to stand against.

\-- 5 --

The prisoner Kallus captured nearly a standard year before remained at the same facility Kallus deposited him at. Following his victory at the destruction of the Spectres’s ship and prompt disappearance for a number of weeks afterwards, Kallus had celebrated ridding himself of the irritating pirate with no short amount of smugness.

Ohnaka was a rather obnoxious but no less necessary occupant of one of the many cells in part of the facility Kallus knew the Spectres would be arriving at any moment.

Kallus strode along the hallways just short of an actual run, his legs carrying him almost as far at a brisk pace as they would if he started to run. In an effort to cut off the Spectres before they reached Ohnaka’s cell, Kallus slipped down a service hall and readied his two tools of choice. The first was the remote for an MSE droid, vibrating at the ready just next to Kallus’s boot, and the other was a small piece of scrap metal, something he knew would make a loud enough noise to earn Zeb’s attention, but not that of the other Spectres.

The sound of blaster fire and the unmistakable sound of Zeb’s voice sent a twisted-up mess of emotions through Kallus’s chest. On the one hand, finally seeing Zeb again was everything Kallus had wanted for weeks, now, but on the other, the weight of what he was about to do nearly crushed his resolve to carry out his plan.

Barely peeking his head out to peer down the hallway, Kallus watched the other Spectres disappear and made his move. His hand released the metal and he ducked away again, listening to the near deafening sound in his hiding place of choice.

After a clatter in an otherwise empty hallway, Kallus knew Zeb would stop, bo-rifle at the ready and ears swiveling to find the source of the noise.

For the second part of the plan, Kallus scooted an MSE droid past him and down the hall. As the little droid squealed in zig-zag motions all around him, Kallus watched Zeb track its movements with his eyes. It was how Zeb didn’t notice the doors beginning to close, separating him from the others.

Even when Zeb acted, there was nothing he could do to stop them, and when Kallus stepped out into the hall with his code cylinder in hand, he caught the last sliver of Zeb’s teammates out of the corner of his eye before all either of them saw was Imperial gray.

“Karabast!” Zeb swore, one fist hitting the metal as if it would do anything besides dent the metal. The doors still wouldn’t move, and Zeb braced himself against the doors, hands equally far apart and head bowed.

From where Kallus stood, shoulders hiked up, breath caught in his throat, he found all the words he wanted to say crawled beneath his bed and swiped at him every time Kallus reached out for them, pleading for their safe return.

“Zeb,” Kallus managed, standing just outside of the Lasat’s reach in case he lunged out of instinct. “Zeb, it’s just me.”

When Zeb turned around to see Kallus standing in the hall behind him, his whole body lost all of its tension.

“Kal,” Zeb said, eyes lighting up as surely as his ears lifted upwards. With three strides across the hallway junction, he leaned in immediately to hold Kallus’s face and laugh. “You overly dramatic human! And here I thought it was a trap.”

 _Oh, if only you knew, dear Zeb._ Kallus smiled weakly.

Closing what meager distance remained between them, Zeb guided Kallus over to lean back against the wall, tucked into the side of one of the bulkheads where he took his time exploring Kallus’s mouth. The sensation, one Kallus had craved for so long, left him following Zeb’s mouth when he dared to break that kiss.

Zeb chuckled and obliged Kallus with one soft kiss. “Oh, you really missed me, then, eh?”

“I have to take my time with you where I can get it,” Kallus reminded him, a sudden pang of regret rippling through his chest at the reminder of what he was about to do.

“Maybe not for much longer,” Zeb said, blinking slowly down at Kallus with a knowing grin. “I think I figured us out, Kal.”

Kallus’s traitorous heart allowed him to hope for even a moment Zeb was right. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Zeb nodded eagerly.

One blond eyebrow arched curiously. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

“We belong to each other.” Zeb said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy, and as cheesy as it sounded, Kallus’s heart brimmed with such joy at the simplest yet oh so powerful declaration.

And yet, Kallus had to crush it, just as surely as he had to obliterate Zeb’s hopes for their future together, as impossible as it had become in the overwhelming dose of reality in Kallus’s vision.

“You’re a Rebel, Zeb. I’m an Imperial,” Kallus face fell.

Zeb’s smile was enough to wrangle no small amount of agony in Kallus’s heart. “Then give it up. Leave with me,” Zeb said, so earnestly Kallus couldn’t help but begin to entertain the idea in his mind

“And join the Rebellion?” Kallus asked.

“Well, I mean, yeah,” Zeb said with a laugh. “What else would we do?”

Kallus squeezed his eyes shut and looked up at Zeb with enough despair, Kallus knew Zeb had to suspect what he was going to say before the words tumbled out into the air between them. “Zeb, I can’t.”

“Kal,” Zeb said, just as convinced as before. “Yes, you can.”

Kallus sighed. “Your Rebellion doesn’t stand a chance against the Empire.”

“We could change that,” Zeb said, eyes lighting up at the thought, one Kallus had dreamed of more than a few times. “Me an’ you, just fighting the good fight. Doing things that matter.”

Oh, how he longed to stand outside of durasteel gray walls and regulation clothing and armor, to stand so closely with Zeb in battle he could feel the heat and smell the singe of blaster bolts around their heads. But Kallus couldn’t.

“What I’m doing does matter.” He said.

“Not like you want it to, and I know you want it to, Kal, but it doesn’t.”

Kallus scoffed in disbelief. “I can’t up and leave to join your Rebellion.”

“Then just leave. No Empire; no Rebellion. Just come with me. _Please_ come with me.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you use the word ‘please’ before, Zeb.” Kallus teased. 

“I’m not joking. I’ll leave it all behind,” Zeb declared.” Right now. We’ll leave right now. Just say yes.”

The words that tumbled from his mouth were not ones he had to muster the courage to say. Kallus tilted his head back and felt the wall behind his head make a clang when he tapped it with the back of his skull. “You would rather die than stand back and watch the Empire continue ruling the galaxy.”

“I just want you. I’ll stop fighting if I can have you.”

“You’re a warrior,” Kallus reminded him, voice dropping to a low mumble. Kallus dared to open his eyes again and search Zeb’s for any hint of insincerity he could pounce upon, but there were none. “You don’t want to give up fighting. You don’t want me.”

“I do.” Zeb insisted,

Pushing himself out of Zeb’s grasp, Kallus shook his head and took several steps away to stare down the hall opposite Zeb and will his tears away. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Zeb.” Kallus said as levelly as he possibly could.

Zeb scoffed. “It’s not that hard.”

“Zeb, we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“All you have to do is leave,” Zeb said, reaching out to take Kallus hands, but Kallus pulled away. “Do it with me. You won’t be alone; we’ll do it together.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Kallus pleaded.

Zeb reached out and clung to whatever hope he could wrangle, hope Kallus wasn’t sure he would walk away from tearing to shreds without immense guilt. “That you’re leaving?”

Kallus shook his head. “That I can’t. I have a place here, surely you understand.”

Zeb, of course, didn’t understand. He didn’t know who Fulcrum was, or even who Kallus had to be in order to survive. “Don’t you dare be stupid. Don’t you dare do something that’ll make me lose you. Come home with me.”

Oh how Kallus longed to take Zeb’s hand and run down the hallways, sticking it to the Empire in the most visual display of defiance he knew of. “Zeb, I told you, I can’t.”

“You just think you can’t, but I know you can. You have to. They will catch you. Your heart’s too good for this place; for any of it, Kal. You won’t be able to resist doing something they won’t like,” Zeb said, and though his words were full of fear, Kallus never expected to see it so clearly on Zeb’s face. “Don’t you dare take your chances with the Empire; you’re already risking so much. You can be one of us, be with us.”

“Zeb-”

“Be with me,” Zeb pleaded.

“Zeb, I said I can’t,” Kallus said. “I can’t.”

Zeb withdrew, releasing Kallus’s hands, letting Kallus’s cool skin slip through Zeb’s fingertips. He took a step back and looked so heartbroken Kallus dared to reconsider, if only for a moment. Could he truly do this? Was his mission more important than Zeb? Would the desperate look in Zeb’s eyes haunt his every waking moment, and steal away at the sleep Kallus once sought out when they first found one another?

The decision, it seemed, was made up for him.

_Yes._

Zeb took a step back and shook his head slowly. “You could. I don’t know why I thought you would, why I thought this was anything other than just you messing around, but if you wanted to? You would.”

Oh, kriff, he had to explain, he had to make Zeb see somehow, even if there was no way he possibly could. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s more complicated than that. I can do good where I am.”

“Nothing good comes from serving the Empire, Kal!” Zeb shouted, leaving Kallus to step back and raise an arm to shield himself out of fear. “You’ve seen it firsthand. You’ve seen it, lived it, Kriff- you’ve caused it.”

Kallus did not flinch, even as the guilt slowly pushed the lid off its box and appeared from below. He knew Zeb wasn’t talking about Lasan, that Zeb wouldn’t talk about something like that just to make him feel bad _. But wouldn’t he?_ A part of Kallus wondered.

Zeb bared his teeth and snarled, talking more to himself than to Kallus. “They’ve got their hooks into you too deep. You don’t owe them a kriffing thing, but you won’t let go.”

“Zeb, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it? What can you possibly be thinking that makes this okay?”

“I-” Kallus felt his throat close up and his lip tremble at the sight of Zeb before him, visibly caught between his desire to shake some sense into Kallus or snatch him up and run away no matter what Kallus shouted while tossed over his striped shoulder. “I couldn’t tell you.”

Zeb clenched his fists and his jaw. “So, what? You’re just going to give up? To walk away from everything and turn your back on us? On me?”

The bitter angry words left before Kallus thought to stop them. “According to you there never was an us.”

“Kal, they’ll catch you. They’ll catch you doing something stupid because you can’t help yourself and then you know what’ll happen?”

“I’m well aware of what happens to those who commit treason.”

“Kallus, I’m asking you again. Please. Please just leave it behind. Please come with me. We’ll treat you better than that kriffing Empire ever could.”

“I said no!” Kallus shouted, hands up to defend himself from a blow he knew was coming, even if it wasn’t physical. “No, Zeb. I’m staying.”

“Then I guess I was wrong about you,” Zeb scoffed, shaking his head as if Kallus were the greatest disappointment in the galaxy, and perhaps he was. “You really are just like them. Just a bunch of Imps, mindless murderous drones.”

Kallus didn’t bother to hide the very real pain in his eyes at the declaration. He didn’t correct Zeb either. “I suppose I am.”

When neither Zeb nor Kallus made a move to reach for their weapons or for each other, their eyes met, and the fury in Zeb’s eyes ripped through the guilt in Kallus’s, leaving him only with the fear what damage he’d done could be repaired.

“So, what now?” Zeb asked

Kallus shook his head, twisting his code cylinder in the control panel for the blast doors and bit out two words with as much venom as he could muster to cover up every other emotion the impassive Imperial Zeb needed to hate to survive would not dare show. “Get out.”

Not what Zeb expected, the Lasat watched the doors open and hiss as they let him through again. “What?”

“Leave. And don’t ever come back here, Zeb,” Kallus warned, trembling. Not in anger, as Zeb was, but with the shuddering whisper of blades carving out his heart. “The Empire won’t show you mercy. And according to you, neither will I.”

Kallus did not cry when Zeb cast one last loathing glance over his shoulder and burst down the hallway after the other Spectres, or when he rounded the furthest corner to the prison cells, or even when the Ghost fled the system and his comm sounded with the fearful technician responsible for bearing the bad news to the high-ranking ISB Agent in the vicinity.

Every one of his tears slipped in silence, his hands folded above his head, face buried in his knees, seated on the floor of his cold, stark Imperial quarters.

\-- +1 --

Kallus, Zeb decided, was still so kriffing frustrating regardless of whatever his allegiances were. The Imperial agent that pursued them for years was no less capable of getting under Zeb’s skin than the clever selfless Fulcrum agent squeezing every possible piece of information out of the Empire’s exhaustive expanse. It seemed that obnoxious part of him would persevere across the lines drawn between sides.

The awkward shuffle in the cabin behind Zeb drew his attention, and when Zeb turned his head to uncover the source of the scuff of boots behind his chair, he saw Kallus.

Kallus, who survived Bahryn with him. Kallus, who held Zeb’s heart and broke it. Kallus, who lied to him and pushed him away when he became Fulcrum.

Kallus, who was very much there with him but looking all the worse for wear.

None of the others knew about their relationship. No one thought to suspect such a thing, although if Kallus was to be believed, there never had been a thing of any sorts between the two of them.

The clever wit, often sharpened and ready within Kallus’s reach, was nowhere to be seen in the brown eyes set firmly ahead on the lines of blue hyperspace around the Ghost.

Zeb cleared his throat and saw the flicker of Kallus’s eyes down towards where he was sitting. Zeb felt his heart flutter in hope before Kallus turned away and awkwardly shuffled outside of the cabin and into the hallway leading to the bunks.

Zeb, however, would have none of it. With a gruff mumbled couple of words, he offered his seat to General Dodonna and followed Kallus down the hall. A few other rebels were in the hallway, but Zeb wasn’t focused on them beyond avoiding stepping on any of those on the floor.

His hand reached out, four fingers snatching Kallus’s wrist before he went out into the common room. “Kallus.”

Watching him flinch, Zeb waited for Kallus to turn and face him. Kallus’s gaze remained firmly fixed on the floor, even as his body turned towards Zeb’s.

“Zeb,” Kallus muttered, refusing to make eye contact, kriff, to even look in Zeb’s direction.

“Hey,” Zeb said gently, free fingers tracing Kallus’s face as an invitation, rather than a demand. “Look at me.”

Kallus’s head turned up, and Zeb felt the lean of his head into the Lasat’s gentle brushing fingers. From the waging war deep in Kallus’s soul, one Zeb could see through his eyes, Kallus was struggling every bit as much as Zeb was.

“We need to talk,” Zeb said, nodding his head towards the doors to his and Ezra’s bunk, where he knew not even Ezra would disturb them.

Kallus nodded meekly, seeming every bit as a downtrodden loth cat would be after failing to nick a bowl of milk. His bizarre stumbling shuffle and off-balance sway towards Zeb was enough of an indicator that as soon as they were through the door to Zeb’s bunk, Kallus was in Zeb’s arms.

Kallus inhaled sharply, looking up at Zeb and grasping his jumpsuit as if Kallus feared Zeb would drop him, or perhaps a number of other things.

“You won’t do any good to anyone if you topple over before we get to take a look at those wounds, Kal.”

“Zeb,” Kallus protested weakly, still holding a fistful of Zeb’s jumpsuit after Zeb deposited him on the bunk and tried to back away. “Wait.”

Zeb waited, but when Kallus didn’t say anything more, he sighed, dislodging Kallus’s hand where it grasped his jumpsuit and holding it in one of this own, the other hand reaching up to caress Kallus’s beaten and bruised face. Zeb’s eyes softened and he crouched down next to the bunk, thumbing over Kallus’s unmarred cheekbone.

“I’m sorry.” Zeb said. “I pushed too hard, and I didn’t listen to you when I should have. I should’ve known better. I did know better, Kal.”

Kallus inhaled shakily, the same breath rushing out of his lungs in unrelenting trembles. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“I know. Karabast, I know that. None of this was your fault. I wasn’t thinking, I was angry and bein’ stupid.”

“I would have been angry, too,” Kallus said. “I wanted to go with you, you know.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. You got to help us out a lot, and save my team more times than either of us would’ve known about.”

“I wanted to tell you, Zeb, but I couldn’t. Acting on my desire to keep you for myself could have led Thrawn to target you instead of just me. I couldn’t risk that, nor could I risk your safety for my selfishness.”

“Then I guess we’re both selfish, you an’ me,” Zeb chuckled, leaning over to kiss Kallus again, leaning over his bruised body with a knee on either side of Kallus’s hips. “Cause, I’ll tell ya right now, I’ve figured it out. All anyone needs to know is you’re mine. And thas’ it. You an’ me, and the rest of them can kriff off, because I’ve got my Kal.”

Kallus laughed, actually laughed, “So, you aren’t angry with me?”

“Angry with you? Karabast, of course not, Kal. How could I be angry with my Fulcrum?”

Even as he raised an eyebrow, Kallus’s grin didn’t fade. “Your Fulcrum?” He echoed.

“Yeah, cause you’re my Kal, but you’re Fulcrum, too. You’re my Fulcrum.”

Kallus let loose a sigh, and leaned in for another shorter, sweeter kiss. “I missed you, my Spectre.”

Zeb laughed this time, separating his lowly spoken words with kisses that grew longer and longer each time. “I missed _you_ , my Fulcrum,” he purred into Kallus’s mouth, nipping his ear lobe and pressing a kiss to the top of Kallus’s head.

“Don’t ever try to leave me like that again, you hear?” Zeb said with a growl. “This Spectre needs you more than he can ever tell you, Kal. I need you like I need to breathe.”

Zeb watched as tears, unbidden and unwilling to bow down to Kallus’s longer-than-a-decade upkeep of an image as cold rigid Imperial, slipped from Kallus eyes. Some stuck to his eyelashes, others made their way onto Zeb’s face, but Kallus didn’t rub them away like Zeb knew he would have a year before.

Running after Imperials into the alleyway behind the bar Zeb had gone to, trying to forget Kallus, only for Kallus to later become _his_ _Fulcrum_ had been the best drunken impulse Zeb was glad for in his life.

Zeb kissed him again, not caring about the tears or the mix of laughter and sobs in Kallus’s chest. He reluctantly broke away to look into Kallus’s eyes and echo his words from earlier. “You hear me?”

Kallus nodded. “I would never want to attempt to leave you again.”

“Good.” Zeb said, kissing Kallus once more for good measure. “Now stay here, so I can take care o’ you the way you took care o’ my family, alright?”

Kallus tugged on Zeb’s jumpsuit and leaned up despite Zeb wishing he would go easy on those clearly bruised ribs. Despite the wince on his face, Kallus kissed the corner of Zeb’s mouth. “Thank you,” he said softly, even as his tears slowed and he fought back every grimace of pain. “Thank you, Zeb.”

“You’re welcome, Kal. Now hold still.”


End file.
